A Different Kind of Sport
by austriantatious
Summary: These self proclaimed independent men, with their shiny toy guns and charming smiles are nothing but mere pawns in your play.


Watching two nearly grown men thug it out amid an evergreen backdrop, you think, should never be this fun. But it is. Especially when it's you they're fighting over.

Alas, it cannot be helped. After all you are t h e Alice Liddell — Wonderland's resident foreigner and the most beloved girl in all the country. Quite literally. But to be completely honest, why wouldn't everyone love you? You tease and flirt and shamelessly express yourself through coarse body language and, sorry Julius, provocative nightgowns.

( _Although, in reality, you're quite sure that the reserved clock maker had his own fantasies. Surely he didn't mind your midnight adventures to his office... _)

Perhaps Mr. Dupre wasn't so far off on his accusations. However ( _your lips form a smile, remembering the way his fingers traced their way to the base of your neck, brushing against your ivory skin so lightly, yet he_ _trembled visibly with need and want _) he doesn't seem so mind so much anymore. He's grown soft, and you remind him of this daily. He isn't as amused as you'd like him to be, but that doesn't matter. It's all a sport of your creating.

It's your game, now.

And then there are those lonely Autumn nights in which you grow bored of this constant pantomime; on quiet, vaguely disconsolate evenings you escaped onto the balcony and took a little time to admire the stars. They're oh so glorious in their death — you're truly envious.  
Yes, sometimes that little speck of insecurity you thought you got rid of so long ago returns and nags at the back of your mind. How vile.

( _Are you talking about the insecurity, or yourself? _)

Oh, but what would your dear sister think of you now?

_( What does that matter? You've finally surpassed her. You wanted this. _)

**Alice,** she'd coo, pleading and begging, her long, luscious eyelashes shimmering from abstained tears, only to streak down her rosy cheeks a minute or two later. You'd wipe them away with false sympathy. **What has become of you!**

Oh, Lorina darling! You couldn't possibly understand. Lorina, the darling of the Liddell family, with the dark chocolate curls and gleaming, promising eyes, always rendering you lost in thoughts and translations.

Oh, no. You mustn't think of her too much. You told yourself any thoughts of your late sister would be positive; never again do you want to feel second-best. You're in Wonderland now, with the magnificent sights and mysterious creatures. But, of course, the best Wonderland has to offer is the amount of men ( _and women, as Vivaldi has so graciously proven_ ) willing to answer to your every beck and call. Practically eating out of your porcelain palms, the poor dears. You now lack the heart to tell them it's all a heist.

(_This is what you wanted. Right? _)

Peter was a prime example of this new game you've created. Why, he's one of the best players! ( _The bristling of the velutinous fur on his ears as you unwind yourself from yet another male; you lay a gentle kiss on the card soldier's temple and pull away dramatically, the man slowly moving after you but it's too late. Much too late. His 'chance' has passed — a chuckle escapes your moistened lips as you turn away, hair billowing out behind you. It seems little Peter's even more riled up _) The way he grabs your shoulders and pulls you back, so in conflict and anger, wishing to yell and scream his feelings but he corrects himself before the words ever leave his mouth, because he knows how agitated you get when he becomes too clingy. It's grand, how much he's learned.

On the opposite side of the spectrum lie the more laid back men, but underneath their clever facades you know how much their clo-ck shatters every time you wander off to meet someone else. You find that the pleasure you feel, the power, is much too addicting for your own good. Keep up your imprudent acts of polygamy, and pretty soon the bullets will be flying.

( _How ironic it is that you once walked these forest paths, hoping to end the violence disrupting the country, and now you're the cause of the uprisings. _)

Elliot, Pierce, and Julius aren't as involved with you as they could be, but you don't mind too much. The actions and jealousy of others make up for their lack thereof ( _specifically speaking of that handsome devil Gray — whoops. Weren't you supposed to be meeting him an hour ago? Too bad _). Then there were those who remained neutral, or tried to. Ahh, Ace, always caught between a rock and a hard place. He never failed to remain indecisive. But hey, at least he responded to the stimuli you provided for him, unlike Nightmare, who would try and turn the tables by whispering 'sweet nothings' into your ear; pressing ginger nibbles on your cold shoulder in a feeble attempt to warm you up. If only to save his pride, you mewled and whined, arching your back and pushing your hands into his silver hair. You gave him exactly what he wanted.

( _But little did he know that you weren't very much fazed by his touch. _)

One of your more recent 'suitors', as Vivaldi would so often joke, happens to be the Joker. Actually, both of them. Oh, yes, this development only pushed your ego to grow. And grow it did. But to have two ( _or was it one? You suppose things come better in pairs. The twins certainly attested to that. The way they cornered you at the mansion in the dead of night, completely unafraid of being caught. How invigorating that experience was... _) of the most highly anticipated, wicked role holders chasing after you like disgusting, love-sick puppies felt so g o o d.

In general, this whole game of yours is fun. Simply entertaining it is, because you're the one who controls the moves. The foreigner does have the upper hand, as it seems. These self proclaimed independent men, with their shiny toy guns and charming smiles are nothing but mere pawns in your play. The only thing lacking from this game is an ending. You frown at the thought. Shall it come to an end? What will become of you at that time?

Oh well. When that time comes, you'll figure something out. In Wonderland, anything's possible.

Boris now pulls out a gun, waving it about in the air while Gowland barks and yells at him to stay out of his business. **Keep away from my Alice!** he shouts in agony, fully knowing that if you choose to step forward and break apart their petty little fight, you could side with the sneaky cat and you could walk away, arms linked and heads bent together. Oh, but you're not that cruel. Or perhaps you are. In any case, they'll never find out. In their minds, you're their precious, irreplaceable Alice, and that's how it'll always be.

You put on your best grin of innocence and clasp your hands behind your back, 'politely' suggesting the two stop fighting and join you for some tea. It's a unanimous decision, so you aren't surprised to see that seconds later they've somehow sandwiched you while you tried to walk on ahead. **Alice!** they call. Always the same. They're beginning to sound so desperate, you can't tell if it's funny or pitiful. Boris strokes your forearm and wraps his tail around your waist while Gowland grabs hold of your right hand, which was previously dangling limp and lonely at your side.

B o y s.

You laugh, allowing them both this moment of comfort and ease ( _at least until the next time you decide to run off with some faceless stranger, or God-forbid, another role holder and leave them wondering what exactly they have to do to 'win your heart' _).

**This is fun.**

* * *

**AN: ***Edited a few things**. **Erm... yeah. I wanted to see if I could write Alice as turning into a sort of... bad girl, I guess? Like she manages to find confidence in herself but then it starts to go out of her control, and she finds amusement in toying with the role holders feelings for her. Or something to that extent. If you're wondering why some words are broken up and underlined and stuff, think of it as Alice is actually going a little overboard with this. She's literally become obsessed with her power over Wonderland, and she's so proud of what she's doing (she's also sort of repulsed by her actions, only sometimes) that she has to exaggerate it and display herself.

I might continue this. Maybe. If anyone wants me to...? Haha.


End file.
